By: Ryan Haney

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Well, They Shouldn’t Call It A Blood “Bank” Then, Should They?

Listen, I ‘m a reasonable person. I, like many of you, am just a blood freak who wants the peace of mind that comes with knowing that his precious collection of blood is safe and sound. So if you tell me that a “blood bank ‘ is a place where altruistic citizens can take a few moments out of their busy lives to donate their own blood and save the lives of those in need and not a business where I can securely store the various blood that I ‘ve personally collected and bagged, I ‘m not gonna fight you on it. But to avoid this kind of confusion in the future, maybe they shouldn ‘t be called blood “banks, ‘ right?

If it ‘s got the word “bank ‘ right there in the name, can you really blame me for showing up to the Red Cross yesterday with seventeen Ziplock freezer gallon bags full of blood in an Igloo cooler hoping to open a blood account?

But the second I come sloshing into this so called blood “bank, ‘ I start getting the third degree: “Where did this blood come from? ‘ “Are you fucking sick in the head? ‘ “Is this your blood? ‘ I mean, when is the last time a money bank asked you about your money? Never, right? Of course it ‘s my blood. It ‘s in my Igloo cooler, isn ‘t it? I ‘d understand if they wanted to test some of it to make sure I wasn ‘t trying to pass off watered-down pasta sauce, but I really wasn ‘t in the mood to play twenty-one questions just after I had gotten off my shift at the Brookstone.

I know what you ‘re all thinking: “We understand your totally normal desire to collect and keep large amounts of blood that you may later do with what you will, but why don ‘t you just keep all of your wonderful blood at home? ‘

Of course, I ‘d love to have my blood at the ready the second some lurid blood fantasy thrilled me into action. Or to be able to gaze upon my teeming sacks of plasma whenever I was feeling down. Unfortunately, I don ‘t have the means to install a temperature-regulated blood vault in my own home. I ‘m just a simple blood freak, quietly stashing away blood for a rainy day one Ziplock bag at a time.

Even if I did have the means to keep my precious, precious blood close to me at all times, it wouldn ‘t be worth the risk. My home would be come a target for blood thieves and blood cons and blood heists and I simply wouldn ‘t be able to sleep at night knowing that my family of large, exotic snakes was in the line of fire.

Like all of you, I work hard for my blood. I ‘m not looking for any handouts. I just want to make sure that my blood is there for me, still potent with life essence, when I need it. Isn ‘t there a place where us blood freaks can deposit, and possibly gain interest on, our immense caches of blood?

Don ‘t get me wrong. I ‘m not against the idea of these mis-named “blood banks. ‘ But I don ‘t donate my my entire paycheck to charity and I ‘m not about to give away all of my blood either. I need to take care of my own unspeakable urges before I can take care of others. I even tried to give that Red Cross my Igloo, but they adamantly refused and the whole batch spoiled. A real blood bank that really cared about blood would never let something like that happen.

Guess I pricked and drained all those sleeping camp counselors for nothing, huh?

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